


The Fall of Demacia

by DemaciasBrokenWing



Series: Stories of the Forgotten Demacian [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fights, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 23:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10501716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemaciasBrokenWing/pseuds/DemaciasBrokenWing
Summary: The introduction to my alternate universe where Noxus is overrun by Demacia. This particular work is almost over a year old, now.





	

_No. Not like this. Why did it have to be like this?_

Garen’s breaths were labored as he ran through the darkness of the forest just on the South edge of Demacia, his feet and legs feeling like they were weighed down with stone. He wasn’t moving fast enough. A small grunt of frustration left his throat as he nearly tripped over a hidden root. The rusty smell of blood filled his nostrils as he regained his composure, reminding him of why he was nearly out of breath, already. Katarina was set on keeping him away from Demacia tonight. She nearly faced the ultimate price for her insolence, but he needed to keep his strength if he were to give his homeland a fighting chance. She was still alive, but just barely. Most of the blood on him wasn’t even from his own wounds.

He felt so foolish. How could he have let the assassin into his heart like he had? Why did he trust her when she wanted to meet tonight, with no forward planning involved? They had shared meetings like that so many times in the past, so he thought nothing of it. However, he knew there was something amiss with just how she was acting the moment Garen met with his so called “lover.” Before Garen could realize, Katarina was upon his throat with her blades in hand, apologizing all the while. She pulled him away so Noxus could assault Demacia, and Garen fell for the trap like a wounded deer looking for shelter. He was regretting the choices he had made… but others would be regretting their own in a much different manner, soon enough.

He finished sprinting through the hidden passage, reaching to the top of a hill that overlooked Demacia. His face grew pale and his blood turned to ice as he was brought to the horror of the city. Trebuchets and horrid beasts chained to other machines of war had already surrounded the city, launching giant boulders of flame into the inner wall. He could see waves of soldiers clad in red and black charging into the holes of the outer wall they had created already, adding their cries of bloodlust to the already ensuing screams of terror and death.

Demacia was on fire.

Garen’s upper lip curled back into a sneer, his teeth hurting from how hard they were pressed together. He knew the city-state was already lost.

But that was not going to stop him.

He dashed down the hill with a breakneck speed, his sword held high in his hands as it gleamed in the moonlight. He steeled himself as he started to reach the southern wall of Demacia. Noxus’s forces had not attempted to besiege that end yet. But as Garen neared the hidden door to enter the city, he saw three Noxian soldiers, two with pikes and one with a crossbow, guarding it. The Demacian General’s teeth gritted as he let out his war-cry: The name of his home he had been so fiercely loyal to.  The soldiers instantly took note of the charging Demacian. Two lowered their pikes in the direction of the charging warrior as the third took aim at him with the sights on his crossbow.

Garen was close enough to hear the mechanics of the crossbow go off just as he dropped down and slid under the fired bolt, feeling the metal tip scrape his forehead. The sting burned his skin, and blood instantly trickled down his face, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. Using his forward momentum, he slammed his right boot into one of the knees of the Noxian with the crossbow, crippling him instantly. With a roar, Garen spun upwards, his sword moving like a strike of lightning to disarm the other two, the tip of it cleaving into the soldier to his right, nearly detaching his arm in one clean sweep. As Garen stood up, the last Noxian soldier standing recoiled, his hands covering his face as he cowered before the man. He could not see Garen’s face, only a shadow of a man, eyes brimming with a fire of unbridled anger.

“Please, Crownguard… m-mercy…!”

Garen took his sword with both of his hands, lifting it above his head, pointing the tip of the blade at the ground below as a surge of golden energy started to surround the sword as a whole.

“You showed no mercy for my people.”

Garen’s following roar was loud and full of rage as he slammed the sword into the ground. With a flash, a giant charge of energy shot down from the sky, descending upon the cowardly Noxian. It took the form of the greatsword he was presented as he was first promoted to General of the Demacian military, and it caused the ground around them to shake as it pierced through his target. The solider had no time to cry out in pain as he was wracked with a burning light the guilty experienced when facing Garen’s wrath.  Only the Might of Demacia could summon such power with naught but the energy of his soul.

The Demacian pulled his sword from the ground, and left the other two to suffer. If they survived, then Noxus’s code would make sure they were executed for failing to stop him.  He passed through the secret doorway that led into a quiet corner of Demacia’s marketplace. Normally, at this time of night, the market would be quiet as its citizens settled down for the night before opening up to the next days’ tirade of trading, forging, and street entertainment. But tonight, it echoed the cries of the innocent. Garen gritted his teeth as he ran quickly through the streets of the market, preparing himself for anything that may come his way. He needed to find Prince Jarvan IV, Xin Zhao, and the rest of the Dauntless Vanguard so they could defend Demacia as much as possible. With some hope, they could possibly turn the tides and fight the Noxian onslaught back for the night and clean the wounds tomorrow.

_I have to tell them what happened…_ Garen thought to himself as he neared the entrance to the military district. This was going to be where the victor would be determined. _It will cost me my life… But I have shamed Demacia tonight. It is what I deserve. I allowed for this to happen…_

As he turned the corner of a building to near the throne room, he was met with a passing squadron of Demacian soldiers. They looked battered and bruised as they held their shields upward, their faces plastered in terror as they backed up. Garen started to near the platoon, eyes narrowing to wonder what was causing them to show such fear.

_“The twigs you call swords… will do nothing to stop me!”_ a dark voice bellowed from around the bend. Suddenly, a few Demacian soldiers were hurdled into the air as a gigantic, twisted battleaxe slammed down by their feet, causing the ground below him to shoot upwards. The soldiers fell in a heap, and a giant, sulking monster of a man took slow steps towards them. His skin had the appearance of stone, complete with cracks running throughout places he would bend his body. His abdomen resembled an infernal version of an open oven, with a haunting red aura emerging out of it. A pauldron of dark metal was infused into his shoulder. On top of his bald head was a dagger, buried deep into the back of his skull, with a red ribbon tied to the end. His eyes glowed a vicious red, and his bottom jaw was composed of a twisted, burnt piece of metal hinged onto his mouth with bolts. As he stepped forward, one foot was revealed to be naught but a metal stump.  He raised his axe slowly, ready to decimate the three who had fallen.

_“Your bones shall be ground into dust!”_

**_CLANG!!_ **

Garen gritted his teeth as he felt a shockwave shake his entire core. He had blocked the axe blow with the broad side of his greatsword just in time, and the force of the planned strike nearly put him on his knees.

“Sion…” Garen hissed through his teeth, “You will not take another step forward!”

_“Garen,”_ Sion’s single word caused the other soldiers to take a step back. _“You would stop me from claiming the Prince’s head? You damned fool…”_

“I will stop you from much more than that, you abomination!” Garen barked as he pushed the weight of Sion’s axe off his sword. He took a step back, spinning his weapon in one hand, preparing for the next strike. He knew Sion would not fight with the chivalry of a Demacian, so he had to prepare for anything. Sion wound his axe back, and with a guttural roar, he swung his axe horizontally, aiming to slice Garen in two. Garen positioned his sword to block the attack much like the first, but the crushing power of the blow caused him to skid across the street until his shoulder slammed into the wall of another building.  Any more powerful, and he would’ve had to deal with a dislocated bone. Garen shook his head to regain his composure, just in time to roll backwards to dodge another blow just like the first one. The axe collided into the wall, causing a portion of it to crumble and slide over Sion’s axe. Before the undead juggernaut could lift the axe out from under the rubble, Garen leapt atop of the pile and dashed up the handle of the extended axe, his body balanced along it nimbly.

 As he jumped over Sion’s wild backhanded swing with his right arm, Garen extended his sword out and rolled over Sion’s shoulder. As he landed, Garen swung his sword downward, the tip of his blade slicing through Sion’s massive calf. The earth seemed to shake as Sion’s rotated his body, the dark red aura starting to emanate from his abdomen increasing in volume.

_“YOUR SUFFERING HAS JUST BEGUN, WORM!!”_ Sion screamed as he freed his axe from the rubble and started to charge forward at Garen. Garen’s eyes widened as he realized the charge was unavoidable. He had to run. He quickly rose to his feet and dashed down the street, Sion’s onslaught starting to build momentum. His eyes darted around as he ran, looking for a hole to dive into to avoid Sion. If Garen were to attempt outrunning him, Sion would trample him underfoot with ease in no time at all. The only saving grace he had at this rate was the injury he had just inflicted. Otherwise, he’d have fallen much earlier. The street he was running along was starting to narrow, and he heard Sion’s shoulders colliding with the walls, bringing buildings down with him in the process. It wasn’t stopping the juggernaut’s pace as he could feel the heat of his energy bearing down upon him. He only had one chance at this.

Garen took two quick steps to the right, and then dashed up to the left wall, running along it for a couple of paces. With a growl, Garen jumped off the wall, his body aimed at Sion. He had just enough height to land a right boot on top of his skull, and jumped off of it into the rubble that Sion left in his wake. He winced as the landing was uneven due to the piles of stone and metal, and he tumbled into a roll, feeling his ankle twist in pain. He ignored the cry of surrender from his ankle as he sprang to his feet, greatsword in his hands as he hunched in an aggressive manner, watching Sion run into the far wall of the inner keep. The impact shook the ground all around them. The inner wall still standing, albeit with a large hole now existing… and an equally large heap of a monster lying amidst the carnage he ensued. That was not enough to kill Sion again, but it would be enough to incapacitate him for the time being. A slow breath of relief exited his body as he stood straight, wincing once more as he put weight on the injured ankle. Something to worry about later.

He turned around to see the group soldiers he had just defended approaching him. They all lined up and saluted him quickly.

“Sir Crownguard! Praise the gods that you’re here,” one solider said as they stood erect. He was young-looking. Much too young-looking to be a part of the military, that’s for sure. He had soft green eyes behind a helmet that covered down to his neck, his face partially exposed and showing a tuft of blonde bangs matted with sweat poking from the top of the opening. Garen knew this one. He had given him tips on how to deal more concise, yet lethal blows with a sword during drills. Jased Silversmith was his name. He was no more than 17. His father was a smith who worked with Poppy, and was known for being able to craft weaponry from a very special metal that shone like silver.

Garen nodded to the solider. He knew someone of his rank would not openly question where he was when the initial onslaught happened, but he felt the guilt burn deep in his stomach. Jased’s eyes were filled with a fear of the present circumstance, but being in the presence of the Might of Demacia was starting to replace that fear with hope.

“At ease, men,” Garen said, finding his voice once again. The soldiers all relaxed their stances, but held their weapons and shields close to their bodies. Sion had clearly shaken their resolve, and the destruction he left in his wake was still giving them second thoughts. “Silversmith, I need an update. Give me everything that you know.”

The solider looked to his comrades, and then back to Garen, swallowing at the lump lodged in his throat. “Well, sir, we’ve already lost the Outer Wall… Noxus forces are much more… aggressive in their attack formations. They’re… taking no survivors, sir.”

Garen’s eyes squeezed tightly shut to fight back the rush of sorrow and anger that overtook him. Every Demacian mattered to him. Every innocent soul lost was another notch on his conscious. He took in a deep breath before looking back to Jased.

“What of the Exemplar and Seneschal? Have you any knowledge of their current whereabouts?” Garen asked.

“N-no, sir. Noxus forces have hit from every angle possible. Everyone has been split apart. Even Lady Crownguard had to take a troupe of men to the educational district.”

Garen shook his head to himself as he heard the news. Lux was a part of the military, yes, but that didn’t mean he worried over her well-being… especially in this state of chaos. It didn’t help that everyone was scattered across Demacia. The Noxian forces were relentless, almost as though they had completely rebuilt their war tactics. He had studied Swain’s war game with Jarvan and Xin Zhao numerous times… This front-on assault was completely unorthodox for him, and frankly, unexpected.

“Very well. You will all accompany me, then. We make our way to the Throne Room, first. Then from there we will start our counter-attacks,” Garen said as he walked slowly through the group of soldiers. His sprained ankle was protesting for him to use restraint, but he could not show his pain in front of the men now following him. He had to hold his composure to keep their faith lit. The Throne Room was designated as the emergency fallback station in times of desperation. Hopefully, others would have already set up a temporary headquarters so Garen could get some more leeway on the location of the others.

The entrance of the Throne Room lay just on the edge of the military district, but the hall for the room itself laid on the border of every district, acting as the epicenter of the city. Garen and the men accompanying him had to push through a few patrols of Noxian soldiers, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle without incident.

 Injuries had to be ignored. Resorting peace was the only thing driving Garen, now. The small troupe of men started up the stairs slowly, and the Demacian felt a haunting chill run down his spine as his hands nearly met the golden curved handles of the doors to the hall…

…Handles stained with blood.

The other soldiers observed the handles as well, before they looked to Garen with fear in their eyes.

“Does this mean- Is the Prince-“

“No, Jased. Someone is trying to get in our heads to ail our resolve.”

A dark, single laugh rang out from behind him.

It was one he was all too familiar with.

Slowly, Garen turned to the source of the laugh. Standing at the foot of the staircase was a tall man in a full suit of black armor, adorned with a dark gold trim. In his right hand, a large bearded axe rested at his side, the handle pointing upward. A dark red cape flowed from his back. There was a grin on the man’s face. It was small, but full of a smug satisfaction. His eyes were a bright, solid white, glowing with energy as he stared Garen down. Around his head was a thin gold crown.

“Will you go in there, Garen?” he asked darkly, “Will you march your men to their demise, or will you accept that Demacia is mine?”

Garen looked to the soldiers around him. All of them had fear in their eyes. They were all looking at the man standing before them. The Hand of Noxus.

Darius.

Garen slowly started down the stairs, his sword drawn and held tightly with his right hand.

“It will never be yours, Darius,” Garen growled darkly, his body filling adrenaline. “Your commander has ordered the slaughter of civilians. That is taking it too far! Cease this horror at once!” He had never hated the Noxian General personally, but every time they had come to a clash, it would always end in either someone interrupting the battle, or both of them at a stalemate.  Fate had drawn them to be eternal enemies. Although, the power from his eyes unsettled him, he wasn’t going to back down from his long-time rival.

Darius’ grin grew broad, showing almost inhuman-like fangs. “Oh, Garen, I do not think you understand… Swain is no longer in command of Noxus.”

Garen felt a terrible shift in his stomach. “What… do you mean?”

But he already knew the answer.

“I’ve liberated Noxus from its weakness,” Darius replied, his left hand curling slowly into a fist as he did so. “Swain was a coward and fool for thinking he could glorify Noxus’ rule. His tasks were asinine and trite. I showed him the true strength of a Noxian… and made him AND his stupid pet bleed. The people of Noxus are stronger now because of it. They show their strength through spilling the blood of the weak.”

Garen’s face grew pale as he listened to Darius. “That means… you-”

Darius’ eyes narrowed as he chuckled more.

“Yes. I carried out these orders. I told Katarina to pull you away from Demacia. This self-righteous city was the only thing standing in my way to give this realm a true display of power. You always valued justice and law, but you were only weakening your people’s resolve by trying to impose such changing values. Weakness is not tolerated in my world.”

Garen felt his anger peak, so much so that his vision was becoming blurry from rage.

“You’ve gone mad… And now your own madness will be your downfall!” Garen roared, grabbing his greatsword with both of his hands.

He rushed down the stairs, the blade in his hands already starting to glow with golden energy. The weakness in his ankle kept crying with each step. The strain in his muscles from the night’s arduous battles pleaded for mercy. They were both cries thrown to the wind. Garen’s mind was focused on one thing alone.

_Justice._

He leapt from the last few steps of the stair case, holding his sword high above his head, a war cry emitting from his throat. The thunder in the skies above rumbled in dark clouds, as if to encourage the actions yet to come. Darius hoisted his axe up just as Garen landed in front of him, using the wide weapon to block the blow.  Garen lifted his sword again, this time striking down on the axe with purpose, dealing a much more powerful blow to the center. Darius squinted as sparks flew from the marriage of steel, but he stayed his ground. He twisted his axe upwards, letting the bearded end get entwined with Garen’s sword. He cocked an armored arm back, and before Garen could respond, slammed a gauntlet into Garen’s stomach. The blow instantly made blood fill the inside of Garen’s mouth. With a fluid motion, Darius wound his leg up and then crushed his heel down into Garen’s bad ankle to follow up.

The pain that shot through Garen’s body was unbearable. Something had definitely broken as the loud crunching sound of bone rattled up his legs and straight to his inner ears. He fell to his knee, sword dropping from his hands as he did so. He coughed up a fair amount of blood as he hunched over, reeling in pain. The blade’s clanging noise along the cobblestone rang in Garen’s ears as he slowly looked up, his vision still blurred. Darius had already leapt into the air, his axe high above his head.  The smile on Darius’ face was soiled with bloodlust and power. The Noxian Guillotine was about to strike.

“TO HELL WITH YOU, MIGHT OF DEMACIA!!” Darius barked as he began his plunge, axe pointed directly at Garen’s head. Garen closed his eyes, hoping the sting of the axe would be only temporary.

_I’ve failed. This would not have happened if not for my foolish choice._

**_GRRRKKCCCH!_ **

 Garen slowly opened his eyes after hearing the noise, but not feeling any pain. Much to his surprise, he was still in the courtyard of Demacia. Darius was on his knee, a small distance from Garen. The newly appointed leader of Noxus was without his axe, his eyes looking to his right with wild anger. Garen’s eyes followed his, and quickly widened. Jased lay on the ground, within arm’s reach of Garen, with Darius’ axe deep in his back. The young solider intercepted the blow, and blood was now flowing freely from the wound just now embedded into his flesh. The boy’s green eyes were being drained of their youthful life as he looked to his leader. Garen looked on in horror as Jased mustered the strength to push his greatsword closer to where Garen knelt, albeit only a few inches. The fire of hope was still lit within him.

“F-For Demacia…” Jased’s words were weaker with each one spoke, “…We live… and die.”

Garen couldn’t help the tears shed as the focus in the youth’s eyes faded away, a passing sigh signaling the soul inside no longer residing within the body. Garen leaned over slowly, taking his sword in his hand. He was not going to let this weapon go, again. The sorrow in his eyes was turning into the rage he had felt earlier as he started at Darius with a burning intent. With a grunt, he slowly brought himself to his feet; putting almost all of his weight on the one Darius had not smashed. His other hand was curled into a tight fist as he slowly hobbled over to Darius. A large spittle of blood shot out of Garen’s mouth, the coppery taste sinking into his tongue.

“You will pay for your crimes,” Garen mustered from a dry and cracked throat, “In the name of Demacia, Darius, _Hand_ of Noxus, I will strike you down…”

Darius slowly rose to his own feet, a smirk of smug satisfaction on his lips. This fool was still trying to hold his ground. Still trying to make him feel as though Noxus belonged to anyone else but him and him alone. Such a tactic was… weak in his mind.

“I do not think you fully understand what I’ve become, Garen,” Darius said as he opened his arms, letting the Demacian get a clear look of his armor and the power resonating from his eyes. “You have been broken in two blows. I have taken the strength inside of me and amplified it _tenfold_!” He aimed one of his hands at the handle of his axe, and a red aura appeared around it. The axe removed itself from the back of the body of Jased and flew into the hand of Darius.

Garen’s eyes narrowed at the display. “You’ve resorted to using magic, then.”

“Strength comes from many sources; it is what we do with them that show our true power. I do not use magic to ail the mind or distance myself from my opponent, unlike others who _think_ that is the arcane’s true purpose,” Darius said as he started to walk up to Garen slowly. “No. I use it to crush any who oppose me so they will know I am the one and _only_ force to be reckoned with.”

“You truly have lost your mind,” Garen responded. “We’ve never seen eye to eye, but you are truly shaming what honor you did have-“

“DO NOT SPEAK TO ME ABOUT HONOR!!” Darius roared, cocking the wide side of axe back and swinging it with a monstrous force at Garen’s torso. The Demacian flew horizontally as the axe swung, his ears ringing and mind desperately trying to piece his consciousness back together.  Surprisingly enough, his hand was still gripped tightly around the hilt of his sword. His arm, however, burned. The sharpened blade of Darius’s axe flayed the skin on Garen’s arm as it was swung, and blood flowed freely from it.

He felt a rush of water surround him, the tension of the surface stinging his skin as he did. It was cold, and it was starting to carry him away in a strong current. The blow Darius produced had caused Garen to land in the nearby canal, which led to the Demacian Falls on the North side. Garen struggled to keep his head above the surface to keep air in his lungs, but his broken ankle and shattered body were not complying with the demands his mind wanted. Before he went under again, he could see Darius in the distance, simply watching the Demacian wash away before he turned, walking back into the heart of the city.

Garen’s mind was rushing with possible solutions, but before one could come to fruition, he felt his body plummet.

He descended from the Demacian Falls, and into the pool of water below.

The impact made him black out.

But one last thought rang in his mind before he lost all consciousness:

_Demacia has fallen. I’ve failed all of her people._


End file.
